"The first voices of the world were never spoken."
Morning light poured through the canopy, weaving gold threads across the grove.
The settlement stirred slowly to life — smoke rising from fires, soft chatter echoing between tents, and the faint hum of peace rare in this world.
Liri sat once more beneath the great tree.
It had become her daily ritual. She would hum, talk, laugh, and tell stories — not of the world outside, but of things she imagined. About the way the stars blinked like sleepy eyes, or how the wind carried songs from the mountains.
The tree listened.
At first, it had been mere curiosity.
Now, it was something deeper — an awareness that pulsed in rhythm with her voice.
When she laughed, his leaves shimmered brighter.
When she grew sad, shadows thickened across the grove.
He didn't control it.
It was instinct — a reaction of Mana to emotion, not command. But slowly, he began to understand the pattern. Her emotions moved the Mana around her like tides following the moon.
And he was the ocean.
---
As weeks passed, the young tree experimented gently.
A single leaf would fall whenever she giggled.
A soft breeze would brush her hair when she spoke his name — "Big Tree."
When she tripped and scraped her knee, dew formed on his roots, rich with healing Mana, soothing her skin like a caress.
Maera, the healer, noticed.
"That child," she murmured to Rhaegor, "the forest bends to her moods."
Rhaegor's ears flicked. "You think she commands it?"
"No," Maera said softly. "I think… it loves her."
Rhaegor said nothing more, but his gaze lingered on the great trunk. His instincts told him this grove was no ordinary forest — and whatever spirit lived within it, it was watching over his daughter.
---
For the young tree, time flowed differently.
The grove's heartbeat pulsed through every leaf, every whisper of wind. But now, that rhythm had words hidden in it — her words.
And through her, the ancient consciousness began to remember speech.
"Liri…"
The sound wasn't yet sound — more vibration than voice. But she froze, eyes wide, head tilting upward.
"Big Tree?" she whispered. "Was that you?"
No answer came. Only the soft rustling of branches, uncertain and shy.
She smiled. "I knew you could talk! Papa said no, but I knew!"
The young tree felt a strange warmth stir within him — something he had not felt in ages. Pride? Amusement? Affection?
The emotions were confusing, heavy, yet strangely fulfilling.
He tried again — not words, but feeling. He sent a pulse through the air, a shimmer of comfort.
She giggled, spinning in the soft wind he created.
---
As twilight fell, she lay between his roots, eyes heavy with sleep.
Rhaegor approached silently, covering her with a cloak.
He glanced up at the tree, his expression caught between gratitude and awe.
"Whoever you are," he whispered, "thank you for watching over her."
The tree responded with a gentle ripple through the soil, leaves swaying though the air was still.
Rhaegor's eyes narrowed slightly. His instincts were sharp — sharper than most. He placed a hand on the bark, fur bristling faintly as he felt the hum beneath.
"Alive," he murmured. "The forest… breathes."
---
Later, when night cloaked the grove, the young tree withdrew into thought.
The stars above shimmered like distant souls.
Below, the beastmen slept — their dreams flowing through the Mana network that webbed the entire grove.
Through Liri's connection, he could feel them faintly — not just their presence, but their emotions.
Fear. Hope. Exhaustion.
All the things he had once known as a man.
And deep within him, the System Interface flickered again, more active now than ever before.
[System Notice: Emotional Resonance Detected.]
[Human Empathy Threshold Unlocked.]
[New Function Available: Dream-Link Observation.]
The words echoed softly in his consciousness, not intrusive, but gentle — as if the System itself acknowledged his awakening humanity.
"Dream-Link…" he mused. "To feel as they feel."
For the first time since his rebirth, he no longer felt like an outsider looking in.
He was part of the story — the silent guardian of the small, fragile world that had begun to grow around him.
And when Liri stirred in her sleep, mumbling softly, he listened — and in the faint rhythm of her breath, he thought he heard words he once knew by heart:
"Don't go, Daddy…"
A tremor rippled through his core.
Memory. Pain. Love.
Humanity.
He did not weep — he could not.
But as dawn approached, the grove shimmered faintly, bathed in light that felt like an embrace.